


Chaperones

by DanceWithMeForScience



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Awkward Tension, Awkwardness, Gay Panic, Hugh is very sweet, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Not Beta Read, Only One Bed, Paul is very awkward, School Trip, Sharing a Bed, i make zero promises about the timeline of updating this, just really very awkward, this is for fun only
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24223372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanceWithMeForScience/pseuds/DanceWithMeForScience
Summary: High school biology teacher Paul Stamets had an awkward dream about gym teacher Hugh Culber, who he doesn't think he likes at all, and now they're co-chaperoning a school field trip together. Paul is basically going to gay panic a lot.
Relationships: Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets
Comments: 27
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

It’s ten hours into the class field trip. Paul had _just_ managed to forget about the scorching hot dream he’d had about his fellow teacher chaperone, Hugh Culber, last night, and was ready to settle into the next five days of chaperoning forty of their school’s most obnoxious teenagers around a national park for their class trip. All that’s left now is to check into their hotel and FINALLY he can have a moment’s peace in his own room -

“I’m sorry, we only have two rooms left. Both have just one bed.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Paul puts his hand on the concierge’s counter and leans in. “We booked three rooms for the teachers.”

“There must have been a mix-up, sir.” The desk clerk looks very uneasy. “It’s Memorial Day weekend and we do tend to fill up. I apologize.”

“Are you sure?” Paul presses.

“Very sure, sir. Will you be able to use those rooms?”

Paul grimaces, face flushing, as he turns back to his fellow teachers. “What should we do?” he asks, trying not to be obvious in the way he can’t look Mr. Culber directly in the eye.

“Mr. Stamets and I can share,” Mr. Culber says. “You should have the other room to yourself.”

“Oh, thanks, you two,” Tilly says. “Are you sure? I don’t mind rooming with someone.”

“No, no, that seems fair.” He hopes his voice seems steady.

For sure, Tilly should get a room to herself, right? It wouldn’t seem professional for him or Mr. Culber to room with a much younger teacher. Tilly is practically Paul’s mentee.

Whereas he and Mr. Culber barely even know each other, and Paul’s generally grumpy demeanor is well known. He doesn’t have many friends among the staff.

Now, if he could just stop picturing the handsome man next to him, who frankly is just a pain in the ass, in compromising positions, then everything would be fine. Just fine.

“Wow. This room is even smaller than I anticipated,” is the first thing out of Mr. Culber’s mouth once he opens the door to their room.

“Not enough room for all your pushups?” Paul retorts from behind them, antsy with the need to just settle down somewhere.

Mr. Culber doesn’t seem to notice Paul’s irritation. Or he chooses to ignore it. “Probably not,” he says with amusement. He takes a few steps into the room and sets down his suitcase in front of the bed, Paul just behind him.

There’s a tiny closet behind the door, followed by the door to the miniscule bathroom, followed by what passes for the main room - a single queen bed in front of a dresser and TV, with just enough room to pass between the bed and the bathroom.

“I see why this was the only room left, it’s barely big enough for one person,” Paul grumbles.

“Cheer up, Mr. Stamets. You could be rooming with Craig.”

Paul laughs in surprise. Craig Hanson is the other PE teacher in their school. He’s stern, no-nonsense, and the opposite of supportive. More than one of Paul’s students has complained about him in GSA meetings, but Paul hasn’t gotten any traction with the administration about the man yet. Frankly, Paul had expected Hugh to defend his co-teacher. “You don’t like him either?”

Hugh makes a disgusted face. “I keep telling him, PE is supposed to make exercise interesting and accessible. He just wants kids to run a mile twice a week and do calisthenics and be graded.”

Paul has disliked Craig ever since he saw him grab a student by the arm to berate her for horseplay in the hallway between classes. He doesn’t care for the horseplay either, but you *never* touch a student. “Well, Mr. Culber, perhaps we’ll get along all right after all.” He busies himself trying to jam his suitcase into the hall closet.

“We’re sharing this bed - we should at least be on a first-name basis.”

Which would be fine if Paul didn’t vividly remember moaning that name out loud in his dream last night.

“Of course… Hugh.”

“I call first shower though.”

Paul gets into his t-shirt and shorts for sleeping while Hugh showers, then, sitting on top of the covers, reviews tomorrow’s itinerary while finishing the last of his iced tea. Hopefully the parent chaperones are holding things down okay with their students. He’s beyond grateful that he doesn’t have to run interference with forty students at night as well.

The bathroom door opens roughly, and Paul hears Hugh call, “Bathroom’s free.”

Paul glances up and nearly chokes on his drink. The man is wearing only a bath towel as he walks across the room to his suitcase, showing off abdominal definition that seems straight out of a pin-up poster. This is *far more* of a sight than the Hugh from his dream, he thinks as he coughs.

The irritation only gets worse, so he gets to his feet, pounding on his own chest to try to clear the irritation. Instead, he starts hiccuping.

“Drink down the wrong pipe?”

“Ob - hic - viously,” Paul hisses, unable to regain his composure.

Hugh picks some clothes out of his suitcase. “You ever try drinking water upside down for hiccups? I could demonstrate.”

“Like - hic - standing on your head?”

“Not quite. Get a glass of water and I’ll show you.” Paul’s never tried one of these hiccup remedies that *works*, but he’s always up for an experiment.

Unsuccessfully holding back hiccups, Paul goes for the bathroom. His body shakes with the force of them. The one he gets when he exits the bathroom even *hurts*. “Ow!”

Hugh has managed to get half-dressed while he got the glass of water, and is just tying the drawstring on his pajama pants when Paul comes back into the main room. The man has such a trim and muscular figure, he makes loose flannel look like a fashion statement.

He looks up when Paul stops in front of him, and flashes a disarming smile. “Okay.” He takes the glass from Paul. “Give me a little room.” Paul makes way in the narrow aisle between the TV and the bed, grimacing through another painful hiccup. Then Hugh bends over until his head is pointed toward the ground. “So now I tip the glass the *other* way and I drink it upside down.”

Paul can’t see what he’s doing. “Hold on. I’m going to - hic - get on the bed to see.” He scoots onto the bed and sits crosslegged. “Once more?”

Well, now he has an equally disarming look of Hugh bending over, but he can also see how Hugh tips the glass like he’s pouring water onto the roof of his mouth. “Okay, let me try.” He reaches out for the glass, which Hugh passes to him. There’s a little smear of something on the rim - probably lip balm.

They switch places, Hugh pulling back the covers and getting into bed.

Paul laughs nervously, and then hiccups. “This seems ridiculous.”

“It really works, I promise,” Hugh says with a smile.

Paul leans over, tilting his head.

“No, bend over further, you’re just going to spill water on the carpet. There, your head’s upside down. Now tilt the glass like you were going to drink standing up, but then the water flows onto the roof of your mouth.”

 _This seems like a great way to pour water up your nose_ , Paul grumbles to himself, but tries to follow directions. First, he tilts the glass the wrong way and spills a little water on the floor anyway. He pretends it didn’t happen, and then tries the other way, finally getting some water in his mouth and swallowing. “Now what?”

“Stand up.”

Paul does so, and looks at Hugh’s highly satisfied face. He looks like he just got a great birthday present. _Dammit_.

“Did you just prank me?” Paul asks.

Hugh raises his eyebrows. “What? No! I would never. Are you hiccupping anymore?”

No, he isn’t. Paul raises his eyebrows back at him. “It worked!” To be honest, he is surprised.

“Damn right it did. See? Now that that’s figured out, I’m going to sleep. You can turn out the light whenever.” Hugh scoots under the covers and arranges himself sprawled out toward the edge of the bed, half on his side and half on his stomach, right hand under his pillow. Within seconds, he already seems to have fallen asleep.

 _Lucky_ , Paul muses, staring at him for a few moments longer than strictly necessary. He looks so _comfortable_. Whereas Paul knows he is going to be lying awake nervously for some time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warning in end notes.

Paul wakes up slowly, feeling surprisingly cozy in the nice, dark hotel room. Mattress not too firm, blankets not too hot… Except that his right hand is falling asleep and his shoulder is feeling out of joint, thrown crookedly over a pillow. He pulls his arm back, flexing his fingers and elbow to get the blood flow going again.

Then the pillow moves. And _sighs._

The pillow is Hugh.

Paul just had… his arm… wrapped around Hugh Culber the gym teacher.

An aroma of hair product reaches his nose, and it smells so good. _He smells amazing._

Paul rolls himself full force out of bed onto his feet, trying not to be too loud about it but at the same time feeling the intense urge to RUN.

He makes his way around the corner to the bathroom by feel, closing the door gently behind him. He flips the light switch and stares into the mirror, his face looking drawn under the poor mirror lighting. And then he grimaces and looks away, rubbing his eyes with both hands wearily.

Yes, it’s been a long time since Paul Stamets shared a bed with anyone, but he didn’t think his octopus instincts would betray him so quickly. He can only be glad that there were a few folded-in layers of blanket between them, that he didn’t, really, just spoon Hugh Culber. The gym teacher.

The gym teacher who is surprisingly thoughtful and, of course, extremely attractive.

 _Shit_.

Paul has no idea what time it is but there’s no way he’s getting back to sleep, and he feels rested enough. There had been a shred of light coming through the heavy curtains. Hopefully that was sunlight.

So, unsure what else to do, and needing something to focus on, he showers again.

Drying off, he can hear Hugh puttering around in their room. He puts his sleep clothes back on and looks in the mirror again, drying his hair more and trying to smooth it down - but he’ll have to do that after he gets dressed properly.

Hugh has the lights on in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed drinking coffee. He’s in a black tank top that hugs his muscles, and a not-quite-form-fitting pair of workout leggings that still leaves way too little to Paul’s overactive imagination. “Good morning! Ready for yoga?”

Paul is already blushing and hopes Hugh doesn’t notice. “Wait. Are we… _co-_ teaching yoga?”

“Oh, no, but I thought I’d come with you. It’s part of my morning routine. Might as well make sure the kids stay on task too.” He smiles and gestures at the little coffee-maker. “The coffee is terrible but I made us both some if you want it. We should go soon, it’s 7:15.”

Paul declines, his stomach full of butterflies. Did Hugh _notice_ Paul’s arm on him last night? Clearly Hugh is going to act normal and say nothing regardless. In any case, it happened, and the only way out is through.

“I’ll get dressed and take that coffee to go,” Paul says, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about his own yoga attire. Certainly he’s not going to look as stunning as Hugh does… _Paul, stop._

It really has been far too long since Paul was attracted to someone. _Look_ , _he_ _’s your coworker. He’s probably not gay. And, in case you had already forgotten: he is your COWORKER._

The eight students who braved the 7:30 yoga session weren’t too rowdy. And having Hugh there alongside him turned out to be quite helpful, as he was able to spot and correct some students’ form when Paul was concentrating on demonstrating proper form himself.

By the time they cool down and meditate at the end of the session, Paul is finally able to feel centered and grounded for the first time since they arrived yesterday. When he opens his eyes and dismisses the class to get ready for breakfast, he feels ready for the day. Wrangling 40 students through the biology and geology class trip in this national park for the next three days? No problem. He smiles at the departing kids and just takes a moment to stay sitting and breathe.

“You’re a very good teacher.”

Paul’s centering falters at the praise delivered in what is, objectively, a very warm and lovely voice.

“You expected otherwise?” he responds, unwilling to look over at Hugh and instead lunging in the other direction for his yoga mat bag.

“Well, I always hear from my kids that you’re a hardass,” Hugh says with amusement. “But in a good way. And that’s obvious. But I guess I didn’t take you for a yoga fan. I was surprised to see you offer that in the planning meetings. But it looks like you’re really into it.”

Paul blushes and refuses to look up as he rolls up the mat and stuffs it into its bag. “People have called me… high-strung? It helps.” When he stands up though, refusing to meet Hugh’s eyes would be weird, so he looks at him. He’s smiling encouragingly.

“I’ve been doing yoga for a few years now. I do a lot of strength training, wasn’t spending enough time on flexibility.”

“Mhm.” Paul looks at the clock. Anywhere but at Hugh right now. _Does he know I was cuddling him???_ “Breakfast?”

“I don’t know how we’re going to be out of here by 9 AM, but let’s give it a try.”

Paul and Hugh and Tilly sit together with the parent chaperones during continental breakfast in the hotel’s lobby. The kids are, thankfully, still a little too tired to be _too_ rowdy, but by the end of breakfast it’s going to be a mess.

“Katrina, can I put you on cleanup duty?” Paul asks. “I can tell we’re going to have plates and cups everywhere if we don’t make sure they clean up.”

“I’m on it,” Katrina replies. She’s the bulldog of their parent chaperones, and Paul is grateful for her to keep the kids on task.

“And Philippa, if you can quiz the kids about their equipment for the day when they show up, that’d be great. You have the daily list?”

“Yes.”

Hugh jumps in, “Terral, maybe we’ll just have you help with a little of each, we really want to be on the road to our first site by 9 AM.”

“I will endeavor to get the teenagers onboard,” Terral confirms.

It’s a complete shitshow despite the hard work of the parents, but somehow everyone is on the bus by 9:10. Jackets, backpacks, smartphones, notebooks, and pens are scattered everywhere and the noise level is _stunning_. It’s been a long time since Paul took students on a field trip. Standing at the front of the bus as the driver takes them away from the hotel, overseeing the chaos, he is reminded why he prefers walking field trips in the local park. More teaching, less wrangling.

Paul finally relaxes enough, seeing the kids are _mostly_ under control, to sit down and look over their notes. They’re heading to the visitors’ center of the park to look at the displays about the local flora, fauna, and geology. Tilly has the worksheets for the students to fill out. Paul has the extra digital cameras for the documentation part of the project. Terral has sack lunches for all the kids.

“Mr. Stamets?”

He looks up and to the right to see Amelia standing next to him, her mouth twisting with concern as she wraps her long black hair around her fingers nervously.

“What’s up?” he asks. “You know you’re not supposed to get up while the bus is moving.”

“Yes, but…” She grimaces and leans in, lowering her voice. “Mike and Brenden are calling everything _gay_ again.”

Paul heaves a weary sigh. Amelia is part of his GSA group, a sweet and shy freshman who isn’t out publicly, and he always feels very protective of her. Her confidence is growing over time, but she, understandably, easily internalizes casual homophobia. He also feels a fresh wave of _anger_ that after all this time, and all the progress that’s been made, teenagers are still so terrible sometimes.

“Go sit back down, I’ll take care of them, okay?” Paul says quietly.

Even as she makes her way to her seat, halfway to the back, he can hear the derisive tone of the boys in front of her seat, calling something gay, again.

He has weighed calling them out in front of the whole bus, but he already knows how much shame and embarrassment and defensiveness that can cause. Instead, he’ll talk to them quietly.

Paul rolls his eyes, taking a deep breath as he gets to his feet.

He walks slowly to the back of the bus, and students are falling silent nervously as he passes them. But his eyes are glued to the clot of teenage boys. He puts his hands on the backs of the seats in front of Mike, Brenden, Dylan, and Camron, and crouches down.

“Guys,” he begins in a low, calm voice, sweeping his eyes from left to right, making eye contact. “Do you have a problem with gay people?”

They’re quiet and nonresponsive, even as the rest of the bus begins to talk again.

“You’ll forgive me for thinking that you do, because I am constantly hearing you use the word _gay_ as an insult.”

The boys are still silent. Brenden fidgets.

Paul continues, “How do you think _I_ feel, hearing you think my identity is an insult?” It’s not a secret that Paul is the faculty lead for the GSA, but not everyone knows, and not everyone knows that Paul chose to be the faculty lead because he’s gay and wants to support his LGBTQIA+ students. “This is about respect for your classmates, and respect for the people around you. Being gay is something that we are, and it's not bad - it's different from being straight, that's all. I want you to think about the words you use. And if you don’t understand something, instead of making fun of it, ask questions. I’m here to talk with you, but I’m not here, and your classmates are not here, to hear you be rude about them. Or you can fucking Google it. Understood?” As he looks at each of them in turn again, their eyes have widened in surprise at his cursing, but more or less, they look appropriately chastened, and nod.

He levers himself up from the crouch. “Thanks, guys.” He nods at them and returns to the front of the bus, sliding back into the seat next to Hugh.

“Did you sort them out?” Hugh asks. “I heard what Amelia said.”

“I hope so. Not the first time I’ve had to shut that shit down.”

Hugh leans in closer, their shoulders now touching, to whisper, “I appreciate the work you do, Paul.” A pleasant little shiver runs through him at his name rolling off Hugh’s tongue, and he can’t suppress an eye roll at himself at this response. Hugh misinterprets this, of course, and continues, “No, really. The GSA is so important, and I’ve always been interested in joining that work, but you don’t need all those faculty there. It’s important for the kids to have role models.”

 _Wait. Is he saying he_ _’s gay?_ Paul has certainly wondered, Hugh definitely gives off _vibes_ but…“You’re… welcome to come join us sometime,” Paul says hesitantly.

“I wish I’d had a GSA when I was a baby gay,” Hugh continues. “It would have made such a big difference for me to see gay adults thriving in my school.”

And with that, Paul’s little crush has become a thousand times more awkward. He’s not just attracted to his coworker, now he’s attracted to his _also gay, smart, and supportive_ coworker who he is _sharing a room and a bed with_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains some high-school-typical homophobia: derogatory use of the word "gay" by students who are then called out about it.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time they roll back into the hotel parking lot, Paul is beyond exhausted, but pleased by the day, and the way some of the kids lit up as he’d led the plant identification walk. Especially the two GSA members who’d brought a thick local plant guide with pictures and spent the whole time reading out of the book instead of completing their worksheet. They’re not good at following directions, but he’s very fond of their enthusiasm.

They herd the kids into the reserved conference room where, to his great relief, the pizza delivery has arrived: stacks of pizza boxes and cans of seltzer and soda are laid out for dinner.

Paul is barely aware of his body, feeling like he floats over to the table, grabbing three slices of cheese pizza and a grapefruit seltzer, before floating over to the chaperones’ table.

“You look like hell, Paul,” Katrina observes before taking a huge bite of pepperoni pizza.

“Thanks?” It comes out snippier than Paul would have liked, and he follows it with a weak apologetic smile. “I didn’t get enough sleep last night,” he explains in a more even voice. Katrina shrugs and nods.

“Maybe you can nap during movie night,” Hugh offers as he sits down next to Paul, reminding him that there is no falling directly into bed after dinner. The teachers are on student duty for the popcorn and movie before bedtime, giving the parents a few hours off. “That movie the kids voted to see… I guess you’ve gotta be a teenager to appreciate it.”

By the time Paul’s downed his three slices plus two more, he’s beginning to feel more functional. Why was he - Oh. Right. He was so busy helping the kids with their worksheets that he forgot to eat his own lunch.

A more satiated exhaustion begins to set in as he digests, but he’s still not very alert. But as soon as she’s done with dinner, Tilly is at her awkward chatty best, making her way among the students, joking with them, even astutely inserting herself between rival friend groups right as voices were starting to rise, and defusing the situation.

Once chairs are lined up and all the microwave popcorn has been made, they call the students up to take seats and - to the degree you can in these bolt-upright padded dining chairs - get comfortable.

Tilly dims the lights just enough for a movie atmosphere while ensuring the teachers can still see what the students are up to. “Darker!” shout a few kids, but Tilly shakes her head.

The movie is unbelievably juvenile, painfully so. It’s about high schoolers, so he imagines the kids find it relatable somehow, but even teenage Paul Stamets would have been reading sci-fi novels or science books in the corner by himself. Not only is the film juvenile, but it’s also painfully _straight_. There are way more queer films now, much more acceptance than when he was a teenager, but there are still no queer kids in high school films?

If there wasn’t a movie going right now he’d be complaining loudly to anyone who would listen about this crap. But alas. He’s supposed to be watching the kids and making sure they’re not getting up to anything. Especially not anything he would have _killed_ to be getting up to when he was a teenager…

Hugh lets out a labored sigh next to him. _Even his sighs sound sweet._ Paul would love nothing more right now than to lean his head on Hugh’s shoulder and fall fast asleep for the remainder of the movie.

But he soldiers on, remaining upright, even shushing some students in the back who are getting too rowdy, and making significant eye contact with a pair of students whose kisses are getting a bit too heavy.

Even so, he’s barely keeping his eyes open by the time they usher the students up to their rooms, making sure each group files into the correct room and alerting the parent chaperones that they’re back on duty for the night.

Hugh gives him a sympathetic look as they finally reach their own room. “I’ll let you have the bathroom first,” he says. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

His chest squeezes in on his heart at the gesture. He must be getting giddy with exhaustion. He hasn’t felt this way in many, _many_ years, like he would trip over his own feet just to get someone to smile at him, and even this time _yesterday_ he was still undecided about Hugh except that he was devastatingly attractive.

And now… and now…

“Paul?”

Hugh is now standing inside the room, holding the door open for Paul to come in.

“So tired I can barely think,” he says apologetically, feeling the heat on his cheeks as Hugh tilts his head and smiles understandingly.

He muddles his way through changing into his sleep clothes, brushing his teeth, using the toilet, and falling into bed (Hugh had pulled back the freshly made covers - _god, how thoughtful is he? Ah, fuck._ ).

He’s asleep before Hugh gets in bed.

Paul wakes up abruptly at some point in the night. It takes him a few moments to get his bearings, to hear Hugh’s soft breathing next to him, to realize anew that he is _sharing a bed_ with a _very attractive and kind man_ , and then to realize Hugh is talking in his sleep.

“Mfphm,” Hugh says. “Ngham.” It’s silent for another thirty seconds, long enough for Paul to think maybe Hugh is done talking. And then, Hugh lets out a soft laugh, and says, “Yeah?”

Paul lies there, unsure of the social protocol for waking up unfairly hot men in the middle of the night to tell them they need to stop sleeptalking.

“Paul.”

He sucks in a breath, hearing his own name. Maybe Hugh is awake. “What is it?”

“You look amazing.”

This is truly mortifying. Is Hugh _dreaming about him_? What if it’s a sex dream? What if… images from Paul’s own dream start flooding his head.

Paul pushes himself to sit up, looking down at the silhouette of Hugh, sleeping on his back, just a ghost of light on his face. He puts a hand gently on Hugh’s shoulder and shakes him just a bit. “Hugh.” Nothing. He tries again. “Hugh, wake up, you’re talking in your sleep.”

“Hm?” This sounds more awake.

“You were talking in your sleep,” he repeats, adding for emphasis and no small amount of redirection, “It’s annoying.”

“Mmmm.” Hugh stretches his arms above his head. “I’m sorry. I…” Paul can’t really see his face to know what’s going on, but there’s a long pause. “I - I’m sorry. It doesn’t happen very often.”

“I hope not,” Paul says sharply, trying to mask his nervousness with indignance.

“Did I say anything amusing at least?” Hugh’s voice is a bit slurred with sleepiness.

“Uh, um, no, just… mumbling.”

“Sorry,” Hugh repeats. “Wake me up if it happens again.” He rolls over facing away from Paul. Ten seconds later, his breathing has evened out and he seems to be sleeping again.

It takes at least ten more seconds for Paul to realize he’s staring. Or trying to, through the darkness. Once again, sleep isn’t going to come easy.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said in the tags, this will be updated whenever I feel like it, so maybe not often. This is my frivolous story for a break, first while I slogged through my serious MU story, and now while I cope with the implosion of the American empire, an unending pandemic, and continuing nationwide racial injustice. Thanks for reading, and I appreciate comments SO MUCH.


End file.
